General-Zod wrote:

> Will Dockery wrote:

>> General-Zod wrote:

>>> Will Dockery wrote:
>>>>
>>>> Passage Through Ennui

>>>> 35 years ago
>>>> it was another
>>>> long bitter Summer
>>>> that dark humid July 1985.

>>>> I was working
>>>> the graveyard shift
>>>> operating one of the service elevators
>>>> at Shadowville Spinning Mill.

>>>> Galatea and I
>>>> had split up again
>>>> earlier in the year
>>>> after our explosive reunion
>>>> in 1983.

>>>> It ended quickly
>>>> after a huge fight
>>>> with her brother
>>>> over an old score
>>>> usually forgotten.

>>>> I won the fight
>>>> but actually lost.
>>>> Tracy gave up
>>>> and Galatea left with him.

>>>> The year
>>>> it all came apart
>>>> seemingly permanent.
>>>> Two years of good times
>>>> ended in a moonshine rage. .

>>>> All I could see was
>>>> a shut down gloom.
>>>> The only laughter I heard
>>>> was down in the break room.

>>>> The brown haze of factory air
>>>> angry faced people
>>>> and the music
>>>> of metal machines.

>>>> Working all night
>>>> sleeping all day.
>>>> Sipping coffee
>>>> to chase the road aspirins.

>>>> Sitting on the steps
>>>> over by a giant fan.
>>>> keeping up with my workers
>>>> usually five ladies
>>>> at the machines.

>>>> If one of the ladies
>>>> needed anything
>>>> they'd just look my way
>>>> and wave.

>>>> Several times a night
>>>> I'd make a buy and fly
>>>> bringing back coffee for them
>>>> on makeshift cardboard trays.

>>>> Jotting down notes
>>>> doodling narratives
>>>> creating reality
>>>> building Shadowville
>>>> from the ground up.

>>>> Riding my elevator
>>>> up and down
>>>> creating samizdat
>>>> in the smoking booth.

>>>> Down to the Reel room
>>>> my elevator filled
>>>> with empty racks
>>>> to bring up the full ones
>>>> for the ladies upstairs.

>>>> All night
>>>> keeping it rolling
>>>> making it smooth
>>>> for the ladies
>>>> to make production.

>>>> Finally to clock out
>>>> as the sad whistle would blow
>>>> we would stumble out the gate
>>>> into the grey dawn.

>>>> Some headed for breakfast
>>>> and a beer
>>>> while always I headed home
>>>> for sleep
>>>> as quickly as possible.

>>>> Living at Mockingbird Court
>>>> where I had shared a trailer
>>>> with my friend Bob Whitman
>>>> an Army vet turned factory worker.

>>>> Bob worked downstairs
>>>> at the Autoclave
>>>> the machine that steamed chemicals
>>>> into the yarn.

>>>> Bob's sidekick Jim Berg
>>>> ran the huge Dryers
>>>> a super hot
>>>> chemical steam bath area.

>>>> Jim married
>>>> my childhood friend Pamela
>>>> and passed away too soon
>>>> from a heart attack

>>>> I'm not sure how workers
>>>> down there
>>>> survived the heat
>>>> and harsh smell.

>>>> Actually
>>>> I noticed not so well
>>>> as years went by
>>>> several old friends
>>>> still haunt me.

>>>> There was a guy named Bill
>>>> from Chicago
>>>> found in the Dryer room
>>>> coughing up blood from TB.

>>>> Chip, another Autoclave man
>>>> was found
>>>> giggling in the warehouse
>>>> up in the bales of fiber
>>>> one line of meth too many.

>>>> Little Rosell
>>>> on the Reels downstairs
>>>> hot little femme fatale
>>>> who I would know better later.

>>>> An unteresting lady
>>>> in her Daisy Duke shorts
>>>> and "Flashdance" shirt
>>>> she was the supervisors' choice.

>>>> Pipe smoking old Mr. Green
>>>> found in a hallway
>>>> died there of old age.

>>>> The list goes on
>>>> many who did not survive
>>>> until the shut down day
>>>> another poem for another day.

>>>> At that time of the night
>>>> with machines all running right
>>>> many of us could wander
>>>> have some coffee
>>>> and get some fresh air.

>>>> Bob was a good friend
>>>> at the job
>>>> quick with a joke
>>>> or pass his pipe for a toke.

>>>> Many smokers and drinkers
>>>> would hang out
>>>> on the porch
>>>> outside the Autoclave room.

>>>> When he heard
>>>> of my latest domestic disaster
>>>> Bob offered
>>>> to rent me a room.

>>>> In a rented room
>>>> in Bob's trailer
>>>> like a scene from The Odd Couple
>>>> without the laughs.

>>>> The bottom fell out
>>>> we didn't get along
>>>> outside of the job
>>>> so I moved out
>>>> to North Highland.

>>>> I moved in
>>>> next door to the Holt family
>>>> old school mill folk
>>>> in the former mill village.

>>>> Don, Walter and Karen Holden
>>>> all worked at
>>>> Shadowville Spinning Mill
>>>> like their family before them.

>>>> Karen worked in the supply room
>>>> Walter ran the Autoclave in Plant One
>>>> Don covered my job
>>>> during the say shift.

>>>> For some reason
>>>> it was important to them
>>>> that they tell Mr. Newberry
>>>> that I was their cousin.

>>>> I never did figure that out
>>>> but it was cool with me.
>>>> I liked them all
>>>> they were down to Earth folks.

>>>> The day I moved in
>>>> I had my music playing loud
>>>> outside my window
>>>> was the river
>>>> and then Alabama.

>>>> I would never have imagined
>>>> how that area would look now
>>>> with the row of houses demolished
>>>> and with the Riverwalk below.

>>>> I was two floors up
>>>> but I still felt
>>>> like a mole
>>>> like a subterranean.

>>>> Wake up
>>>> it was Monday
>>>> I could hear Billy Teakson
>>>> blowing his horn in his pickup truck
>>>> down below.

>>>> Billy was an old school
>>>> Card and Blending room man
>>>> never late
>>>> sick or well he was on the job.

>>>> Slither down the stairs
>>>> so far so good
>>>> jump in and ride on
>>>> the the alternate universe
>>>> the factory.

>>>> He never failed
>>>> to have a spare Budweiser
>>>> and a smoke
>>>> for the short ride to
>>>> Shadowville Spinning Mill.

>>>> We'd get there in time
>>>> to stand around the parking lot
>>>> and catch a few words
>>>> with the crew.

>>>> Then the whistle would blow
>>>> and it was on your mark
>>>> sail through 12 hours of dream
>>>> in another land.

>>>> Grabbed a cup of rotgut
>>>> mill coffee
>>>> and then
>>>> in a determined stroll.

>>>> Up to the Bobbin Winders
>>>> and the upstairs Reels
>>>> to catch everything up quick
>>>> get the game going right.

>>>> Then down the elevator
>>>> to the Spinning room
>>>> sweat shop
>>>> a dozen ladies
>>>> smoking and yelling conversations.

>>>> Loud roaring
>>>> antique seeming machinery
>>>> all all points
>>>> no escape from
>>>> the chaos and thunder.

>>>> Get it all caught up
>>>> then down to the sub basement
>>>> to pick up the prize left for me
>>>> by Don
>>>> my first shift doppelganger.

>>>> Any time Don
>>>> skipped out early
>>>> and left everything
>>>> off the mark, it was no problem.

>>>> He'd leave me a joint
>>>> at a certain spot
>>>> in the sub basement.

>>>> The basement was
>>>> creepy enough
>>>> but the sub basement
>>>> seemed right out
>>>> of a horror movie.

>>>> Needless to say
>>>> I'd keep my head down
>>>> and would try to get out
>>>> of the sub basement quickly.

>>>> I had been distributing
>>>> my broadsheets
>>>> among my co-worker friends
>>>> news of the day
>>>> with a twist.

>>>> They were entertained
>>>> by my poetry
>>>> and comic strips
>>>> looking for themselves
>>>> in the lines on paper.

>>>> Pat, the personnel director
>>>> called me in her office
>>>> and put the kibosh
>>>> on my broadsheet.

>>>> My poetry and art zine
>>>> had violated the strict
>>>> "No Distribution" policy
>>>> that no outside reading
>>>> was permitted inside the mill gates.

>>>> Since I had not been
>>>> aware of this policy
>>>> I apologized
>>>> and kept the broadsides
>>>> outside the gates from then on.

>>>> Absolutely
>>>> no foreknowledge
>>>> of what was coming next
>>>> taking one minute at a time.

>>>> Getting from one minute
>>>> to the next
>>>> always in a hurry
>>>> caught up in the time
>>>> flashing by.

>>>> Not even giving a damn
>>>> or so I told myself
>>>> by that point in time
>>>> hoping for a speedy turnabout.

>>>> I never could have foreseen
>>>> twenty years later in 2005
>>>> standing in a crowd
>>>> watching the old mill in flames

>>>> I was living
>>>> in the worn out townhouse
>>>> at 3226 River Avenue
>>>> once part of a mill village.

>>>> First week of the month
>>>> was always annoying
>>>> so much noise
>>>> as I tried to sleep.

>>>> All day hearing Mr. Newberry
>>>> beating on the sides
>>>> of the houses with his cane
>>>> trying to collect his rent money.

>>>> Alone
>>>> in my upstairs office
>>>> writing my manifesto
>>>> in poetry and comic strips.

>>>> Right side duplex
>>>> next door to the Holden family.
>>>> Two stories overlooking
>>>> the dark green Chattahoochee.

>>>> If I had the foresight
>>>> I would know sitting and waiting
>>>> was wasting precious time
>>>> the cruelty of moments.

>>>> Time can't be saved
>>>> like in a bank.
>>>> I thought I was biding my time
>>>> while I was losing everything.

>>>> As the North Highland
>>>> sun blazed down.
>>>> And as the cool white moon
>>>> seemed to watch over it all.

>>>> The big rooms
>>>> and empty house
>>>> suited my mood
>>>> my lonesome and blue.

>>>> Looking out my upstairs window
>>>> dabbling on a canvas
>>>> not a clue
>>>> what was to come.

>>>> Walked down to Forte's Pharmacy
>>>> for a beer and some smokes
>>>> the place is long gone now
>>>> 35 years later.

>>>> Back then it was
>>>> the general store
>>>> where the locals stood around
>>>> shooting the breeze.

>>>> Although relatively close
>>>> the walk was winding
>>>> to get around
>>>> the far side of the factory.

>>>> Found a girl named Margo
>>>> she lived
>>>> a few doors down
>>>> from my place.

>>>> She said she liked my music
>>>> but had thought Bob Dylan's song
>>>> was The Clash
>>>> but I found her naivete charming.

>>>> Took her out and played the game
>>>> but my heart
>>>> just wasn't in it
>>>> I never saw Margo again
>>>> after that night.

>>>> At that time all seemed lost
>>>> just goes to show
>>>> I'm not much of a fortune teller
>>>> but kept hope alive.

>>>> Many nights seemed like others
>>>> so I trudged
>>>> through the days
>>>> wrote poetry
>>>> through the night.

>>>> Crossed my heart
>>>> and looked forward
>>>> to good luck
>>>> and happy days again.

>>>> No happy ending
>>>> was expected
>>>> in the foreseeable future
>>>> just more of the same.

>>>> -Will Dockery

>>>> ------------------------------
>>>> From the Shadowville Mythos poetry blog:
>>>> https://shadowville-mythos.blogspot.com/2021/04/passage-through-ennui.html

>>> Lovely, quite an epic poem.....!

>> Thanks for reading and commenting.

>> This poem is another based on true events.

> Excellent rendition of a moment in time.....!

Good morning, thanks again.